


Your Smoke and Kisses

by redhearted



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-11
Updated: 2013-09-11
Packaged: 2017-12-26 02:45:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/960648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redhearted/pseuds/redhearted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Madrid, the sky is a different shade of blue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Smoke and Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Miles Kane's _Rearrange_. The lyrics upon which this fic is based:  
>  _  
> I wanna make your smoke and kisses  
>  black and white  
> Measure all your spinning whispers  
> in the loose moonlight  
> Magic from your fingers tingles down my spine  
> colour in-between the lines_
> 
> _Let it out, let it out, let it all out  
>  Let it out, let it out, let it all out  
> You rearrange my mind  
> You rearrange my mind  
> _

"What's got you like that again? Or should I say, who?"

Iker looks up from his phone, smiling still. "What?"

"You've been doing it all day." Sergio flashes his ear-to-ear grin, never lacking that air of mischief. "Looking at your phone and smiling."

As if eager to corroborate, Iker's phone buzzes with a new message, a new green text bubble appearing under the last one. _Done yet? Want to make plans._ He locks the screen and thumbs over it, sighing. "Just been talking to David."

"I bet it was Guaje," Sergio replies. "Xabi bet it was some hot date you met."

Xabi intervenes, "I just had dinner with him the other day. It's going to be great having him around."

Iker looks up at him involuntarily. "What? You guys did dinner? When? I mean–-he said he'd be busy these first few days, and--" He cuts himself off, aware he sounds rather too close to whining.

"Yeah, last week." Xabi shrugs, then smiles. "Don't worry, he'll fit you in some time. Maybe next month."

 

The phone rings barely once before David picks up. "Hey."

"I'm free all week," Iker says, a little more forcefully than he intends. Clearing his throat, he continues: "Come on, let's meet up."

"You say that like I don't want to," David exclaims. Iker can hear his infectious smile over the phone.

"You've met up with Xabi and Sergio. I have to assume you're–-"

"–-leaving you for last?" David is quiet for a few seconds. "Iker, I know we need to talk."

The words leave Iker feeling an old unease in his stomach; he doesn't want to hear the words David will say, the finality of them.

"I just want to see you. We don't have to talk about any of that stuff." _  
_

There is a long pause.

Then, to his relief, David finally says, "Sure. Sure, let's. How's Saturday?"

 

Saturday is fine, so Iker spends the week looking forward to the weekend. He thinks about showing David his favourite places in this city, _his_  city, telling the stories that will make an ordinary streetcorner something worth remembering. Other things, too, less profound: where to get the best bread in town, where to buy the cider David couldn't live without.

He has already memorised David's address; whether that is normal or not, he doesn't know. He tries not to think about it, not to give them reason to address those old issues, their past relationships. David is in Madrid and Iker is determined not to ruin this.

Finally, the appointed time on the appointed day arrives, and when David pulls open the passenger-side door of Iker's car, Iker knows his heart is beating more quickly than it should.

David has a big grin on his face as he slides in; he smells sharp and fresh, instantly familiar. "Hey, stranger." He reaches out and tweaks Iker's cap.

"Let's take you someplace," Iker smiles.

 

" _Retiro?_ You have the whole town to take me and you take me to Retiro?" David gives Iker a look of mock disbelief. 

Doesn't he remember?

They'd been mostly silent that night. Madrid had beaten Valencia in the Bernabéu; Iker treated David to a consolatory dinner. They had eaten too little and drunk too much. In Retiro the moonlight had shone like silver strands over David's dark head, some trick of the light or Iker's eyes.

"It's Madrid's Central Park, you know."

"Yeah, sure." But David smiles. Then he looks at Iker when they stop by the lake.

He does remember.

They stand stock still in that moment, Iker too aware of the sun and the faint perspiration forming above his lip. Too aware, also, of the way David's eyes feel on his skin, lighting something warm and alive inside him he had desperately wanted to feel. He can feel David's lips again, his fingertips on his skin.

The moment lifts, delicate. David breaks his gaze from Iker's and looks instead at something in the distance. "I thought you didn't want to talk about 'any of that stuff'."

Iker takes a breath. "I didn't want to hear you say it."

"Say what?" David looks back at him. Something about this man weakens Iker.

"You know," Iker says, voice too low. "Something like. 'We can't do this.'"

"Is--is that what you think?" David's eyes are wide; Iker can see right through him, through that liquid brown.

He had thought it before, that they couldn't do it. That a relationship just would not work. But the truth, he knew, was that anyone else simply could not be enough. When David had not been in Madrid he had tried to fool himself. Now it was clearer than ever that he would always have waited for David.

"Iker," David says. His lashes are a crescent sweep against his cheek. "If that's what you think, I understand."

"No. No--you remember being here, that night." It's meant to be a question, but it comes out a statement. Iker swallows. "I didn't, I wouldn't bring you here to tell you I think _we can't do this_."

The boats sway, the breeze picks up again, and the sun beats down on the tops of their heads. Several tourists make their way along the path, gazing out at the green water of the lake. Iker reaches for the brim of his cap and jams it further down over his forehead as he looks at David, an unasked question on his lips.

David says, "Yes."


End file.
